


P.O.I. High (Part 3)

by mother_finch



Series: P.O.I. High [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Root & Shaw are high school seniors and secretly dating. Root obviously has feelings for Shaw & much to her surprise she's starting to have feelings for Root. She tries her best to ignore said feelings,she takes it too far by saying something that really hurts Root in front of the whole school,which she regrets. Root breaks it off & if they get partnered up for projects Root acts aloof no more flirting no more innuendos. Shaw does everything to get Root back even asking her mother for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	P.O.I. High (Part 3)

_What is this?_  Sameen thinks with some anger, stalking down the street.  _This? This is going too far._  She hadn’t meant to get this involved- this much of anything. But look at her now. _Pathetic_ , she sneers, walking into her house with clenched fists.  _I’m a sociopath,_ she reminds herself,  _I don’t like people_. But Root no longer seemed to be merely ‘people.’  _There was something different about her from the start_ , Sameen acknowledges,  _but this? Not this_. She didn’t like where this was going- the path it was taking her down. She liked being tough, an emotionless force to be reckoned with. Root was changing that, and changing it fast.  _It was a joke,_  she fumes to herself, slamming her bedroom door. _I wasn’t going to kiss her- I didn’t- she did. And somehow, that changed something_. Something she could easily suppress around Root before was unleashed. Like a typhoon, it swept Sameen up and tossed her around each time she saw Root. Each time she thought of Root. She hates it. She loves her.

"Honey; you want dinner?" Shaw’s mother calls from the other side of the door.

"No."

"Why not?"

With a huff, Sameen spits, “I’m  _busy_.”

"Busy doing what?  _Brooding_?” Shaw is silent, and her mother continues. “We talked about this. You couldn’t stay at your other school. After what you did to that boy…”

"It’s not about that," Sameen retorts with venom. She thinks to that kid, the one who was too arrogant for his own good, and how ridiculous he looked with green skin. The only good thing she got out of Chemistry.

Her mother is quiet a minute. “If this is about your father, I know-“

” _Don’t_ talk about him.”

Silence. Sameen sighs. “I’m fine. You can go eat, I ‘ll grab something later.”

The rest of the night is consumed by the ticking of a clock, a white bedroom ceiling, and Sameen’s nauseating thoughts. So many of them, bouncing off the walls of her skull, all trying to break free.  _It has to be something else,_ she tells herself for the umpteenth time.  _I wasn’t jealous, I was defending a friend. A friend_ , she tells herself firmly.  _And only that_. Yet, as she continues to command the idea through her head, she realizes it won’t stick. For every time she says friend, her mind fights her on it. Finally, she gives up with a flustered sigh, laying on her side.  _You’re wasting her time_ , she thinks to herself, slightly miserable.  _You don’t like people- you do not like people- you’re just postponing the inevitable._

But what was the inevitable? Shaw’s mind fills with a scenario and plays out like a movie before her eyes. Root finding someone- someone real, not a sociopath. She watches Root’s smile, not able to see the face of this new comer, but seeing the affection in Root’s eyes for them. The inevitable is letting her move on with her life.  _I’m always going to be a sociopath,_  Shaw thinks with force.  _Then why feel all these things?_  her mind counters.  _Only for her. Only and ever for her._  And what seems so drastic in Sameen’s eyes is such subtle things. Kind looks, slight hand brushes, leaning on one another- barely the scandal she sees in her own head. The scene continues, Root wrapping her arms around this mystery figure. Angry and beside herself, Shaw shuts her eyes tight, not wanting to see a moment more of the dreaded inevitable.

________\ If Your Number’s Up /_________

After spending her entire weekend in solitude, she wakes up at 4:30 a.m. and starts to dress. As she slips on her black work boots, she feels the guilt eating her alive. She clicks the power button on her phone, revealing once more the concerned messages from Root.

Saturday: Hey, Sweetie, are you still coming over?  
Saturday: Well, guess not. Hope you’re alright (:  
Sunday: Not gonna lie, I’m worried. John called me, he hasn’t heard from you either. Give me a ring.

She’d heard the buzz, watched them light up her screen, but never once touched her phone. She couldn’t- wouldn’t- allow herself.  _I can’t be falling in love,_  she remembers saying to herself as she laid on her bed.  _That’s a stupid child’s fantasy._  Apparently she was a kid at heart.

Zipping up her jacket, she sighs, then creeps out of her room. Silently, she tip toes down the stairs, eases open the door, and is gone, engulfed in the chilly morning air. She sets to walking, to clear her head, and travels the half mile to Root’s house, her thoughts only leading there.

Coming up to the massive oak door, Sameen sees a light on in the kitchen. Checking her phone, she sees it’s 5:15 in the morning. She jiggles the door handle- locked. Stretching, she grabs the spare key dangling from within the front light, and unlocks the door. She steps in to the smell of toast and melted butter, and the sound of a newscast radio.

"Well, look who’s here," a woman’s voice calls out, and Sameen walks into the kitchen.

"Hey, Ms. Groves," Sameen replies, bouncing from foot to foot. "Is Root up yet?"

"Should be," Ms. Groves replies as toast pops up from the toaster. "But knowing her she’s dozed back off."

"I’ll get her," Sameen replies, already heading to the stairs. Ms. Groves watches, a warm smile playing on her motherly face.

Sameen takes the stairs two at a time, walking into a dark hallway. She walks to the second to last door on the right, then puts her ear to the door. Nothing. Looking down, she sees yellow light flooding from under the door. Turning the knob, she pushes it open without a sound, then stops in the doorway.

Root hops around, pulling on a pair of denim jeans while trying to manage several other things. She slips them over her underwear, then walks to the dresser to brush her wavy hair. It takes a minute, but the tangled loops and knots soon give way to silky, smooth hair. Satisfied, Root turns her back to Sameen, opening the closet door. She lifts up folded shirts, filing through them. She grabs an undershirt from one of the piles, and starts to slip it over her head, all the while turning to walk back a different way. She trips, and lands with a startled squeak on her mattress, tank top riding above her abdomen.

"Need some help?" Root freezes, eyes open wide with mortification as she looks up to see Sameen smirking in her door frame.

"When did- how long were you there?" She demands, scrambling back to her feet and pulling her tank top firmly down. Sameen strolls forward, stepping over an abandoned pair of sneakers, and comes to a stop in front of Root, wrapping her hands around her waist. Root’s heart starts to run in circles. Sameen hooks her thumb through one of Root’s pant loops and gives it a small tug.

"Since before  _these_  were on,” she replies with a nonchalant shrug, watching Root’s cheeks turn seven shades of red. Sameen manages to keep her face neutral.

"I can’t believe I didn’t  _hear_  you! You really think I would have heard _something,_ or at least  _seen_  it out of-“

"Root?" Sameen tries to intercept her rambling, but to no avail.

"-my eye. Are you  _sure_  you were standing there? That’s a stupid question you obviously were-“

"Root."

Root trails off, eyes focusing on Sameen. “I was-“

” _Rambling_ ,” Sameen finishes. Root purses her lips.

"I blame you."

” _Me?_ " Sameen responds incredulously. "What did  _I_ do?”

"You’re just-  _you!_ " She answers, flustered. "With your  _hands,_  and your  _eyes_ \- you’re just-  _stop_  being cute, you mess with my mental filter.” Shaw’s mouth involuntarily turns up in an amused smirk. Pulling Root in closer, she gives her a kiss on the lips before her mind even recognizes what is going on. She pulls back, face a coy mask hiding the millions of gears turning within her head.  _Did I just?_

Root’s mouth drops in a surprised, yet delighted ‘O’, and her eyes light like matches. After a moment, Root shakes her head, falling out of her daze. “I, uh, I need to get ready still,” she says, an eccentric, toothy smile on her radiant face. She wiggles free of Sameen’s hold, and pulls on a red, short sleeved shirt.

"You honestly confuse me, Sam," Root remarks, grabbing her satchel and heading for the door. Sameen walks by her side with an all too knowing countenance.  _That makes both of us._  
  
"You’re gonna be late!" Root’s mother warns the second they get down the stairs. She hands them each a baggy stuffed with buttered toast. "You can eat this on the bus- go!"  
  
The two hustle down to the corner, making it just before the bus dashes off. Sameen, feeling all eyes on her, shoves a piece of toast into her mouth, sneering venomously at the gawking freshman in the second row of seats. Instantly his face turns ashen, and he directs his gaze to the ground, finding a sudden interest in his sneakers. Root slips easily into an empty two seater, and Sameen follows in, snatching another piece of toast from her zip lock bag. She chews indulgently, the crisp crunch of the toasted bread filling her ears. Feeling a set of eyes on her, Sameen looks to the right to find Root’s eyes staring affectionately at her.

” _What?_ " Shaw asks flatly, a few crumbs spraying onto her lap. She brushes them off peskily; Root shakes her head.

"Nothing."

Sameen raises her brow in a  _yeah-yeah-okay_  way. Running her tongue across her teeth, she takes a quick glance around the bus, noticing that more than Root’s eyes are on her. Random under-class students take fleeting looks at her; the kids in her own grade looking longer, eyes drawn up with the mystery. Sameen swallows the last bite of her toast, and starts to listen.

"What is  _she_  doing on this bus?” someone whispers, greeted by hushed ‘I don’t know’s.

"Did you see Root’s _face?_ " another, female voice asks.

"Are they a  _thing?_ ”

"Do you think they  _slept_  together?”

"I don’t know. Maybe."

The voices become overwhelming, and Sameen desperately tries to block them out. She grabs hold of the headrest on the seat before her, gripping it tightly to calm her wired nerves. Root brings her own hand up to steady herself as the bus makes a sharp turn. Her hand grazes Sameen’s. She retracts her hand like she’s touched a hot plate, then looks at Root. There is question and slight hurt in her eyes, and Sameen immediately gives herself a mental kick.

She feels suffocated. Suffocated by the stares crowding her, all trying to see her. Suffocated by the words, all about or surrounding her. Finally, the bus arrives, and Sameen darts off first, sucking in a shaky breath.

The words are a wild fire as they crackle through the halls, sparking up conversations and igniting shocked stares. Sameen walks, eyes straight ahead, trying to block everyone out. Suddenly, her open hall space is closed by two large bodies stopping to look at her. She shoots the two boys a dirty look, then turns to head a different way. With a sinking stomach and roaring temper, she realizes she’s surrounded. The ring shuffles slightly, and an unwelcome face appears from the crowd. Blonde hair, french nails, tight blue dress- Martine.

"Hello  _Sam_ ,” she says, a wicked smile on her face.

"Don’t call me that." Sameen spits back hostilely.

” _Oh?_  I can’t call you  _Sam?_ " she asks with mock innocence, getting under Sameen’s skin. "I guess that’s something only your  _girlfriend_  can do?”

Sameen bristles. “I don’t  _have_  a girlfriend.” Others stop in the hall, crowding around like an underground cage match. However, Sameen’s eyes only focus on one- the one in the cage with her.

"Oh, _c’mon_  Shaw,” Martine replies with a condescending laugh. “It’s so  _obvious_.”

"You sure you’re not just jealous? Being turned down can be so  _hard_.” Sameen says with mock sympathy, lip in a pout. There are hushed ‘ooohs’ from the crowd. Martine gives her a cross glare.

"So if she’s not your  _girlfriend,_ " Martine ponders, putting a finger to her lip in thought as she slowly starts to circle Sameen. She follows, not letting Martine from her smoldering sight. "She’s your friend with _benefits?_ " Sameen’s ears redden in rage, and there is cruel laughter around her. Martine comes in close, narrowing her eyes with a demented smirk. "Playing out all your little lesbian fantasies?"

Sameen’s hand darts out, grabbing Martine by the dress collar, and yanking her upward. Martine’s hands instinctively shoot to Sameen’s wrist, trying to pry her off. Her eyes are hard, pissed, but her voice is smug. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

"You listen, and you listen  _closely_ ,” Sameen’s voice is low and deadly, but carries to all the ears of the bystanders. “She is  _not_  my girlfriend- you could barely call her a  _friend_  to me.” She feels the lie burn as it comes up her throat, but what else can she do? “ _Me?_  Date  _her?_ That’s a joke.” She shoves Martine, releasing her hold on her dress, and Martine stumbles back clumsily. Her eyes are daggers at Sameen, then focus to a spot just left of her ear. She smiles sinisterly. Turning her head, Sameen sees a flourish of wavy brown hair receding through the crowd, pushing through the masses, until she’s out of sight. Sameen brings her gaze back to Martine, fury making her hands ball to fists. She turns, and the crowd parts in hushed amazement to let Sameen through.

"Where you going, Sameen?" Martine calls from behind her. Without looking back, Sameen stick up her middle finger, eyes groping the halls for any sign of Root.

Down the hall, through a side corridor, and to the most remote corner of the school Root dashes, head down. Her satchel strap breaks, her books splaying out all over the floor. She doesn’t retrieve them- she keeps running. She runs past a group of girls, apparently missing the spiteful word smack-down.

"Is she  _crying?_ " one girl asks, but Root is already gone. She stops at the storage room where not so long ago she stood with Sameen and John- watching Harold and his girlfriend- and hurries in. Slamming the door behind her, she leans against it, then slides down, face in her hands. Her breath is shaky, heart ripped and bleeding. She feels warm wetness seeping through her fingers, and scolds herself for the tears. But she can’t help it. Her sobs are silent but ragged, the weight of pain pressing in on all sides, making it impossible to breathe. She sits there, shuddering. The bell rings. She doesn’t move an inch.

Root is unsure how many minutes have gone by- she’s unsure of anything save for the sting in her eyes and the pain in her chest. There is a knock on the door, and she holds her breath, staying quiet. _Please go away, please go away, please go-_

"Root?" Harold’s worried voice is muffled and distorted through the heavy door; still, Root would know it anywhere. She stands quietly and turns to the door.

"Root, are you-" Harold is stopped mid-sentence by a force barreling into him, and he is pushed back a step, arms flailing out for balance. He feels two arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and a nose shoved roughly into the top of his shoulder. He’s frozen a minute as Root sniffles, then brings his arms comfortingly around her back. "That bad, huh?" he asks silently, wishing he could do something- anything- for his best friend. Root doesn’t respond, but hugs him tighter. Stiffly, Harold walks forward, Root still clinging, and closes the storage room door behind them. Bringing his hands to Root’s biceps, he pulls her back to look at her face. It’s heart breaking. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, she bites her lip to hold everything in. Harold drops his shoulders sadly. His eyes scan her in the dark, the only light filtering through the grimy window, but it’s enough to see the pain etched on her face. She licks her bottom lip, looking away with a shaky breath.

"Root?"

Silence.

” _Root?_ ”

"What." Her bitter tone takes Harold back, but he quickly recovers.

"I’ve seen how she is around you. John sees it- I know you’ve seen it- and I know she didn’t really mean-"

"I don’t care  _what_  she  _meant_ ,” Root spits back, looking to Harold with spiteful eyes. More silently, she adds, “I  _don’t_  care.”

Harold lets his head droop to the side, scrunching his lips in sympathy. “Root, I-“

” _She_  said it,” Root says with a laughter hitting hysteria. She shakes her head as a knot tightens in her throat. “If she is more worried about her  _representation_ than me, then yeah, it  _was_ a joke. It was all one  _big_  joke.”

"What are you going to do?"

Root is silent for a moment as she looks at her shoes; her eyes slowly find their way back to Harold’s. “I’m going to play it out her way. It never happened.” Harold can hear the strain in her voice, as if it is painful to even speak the words allowed. He gives her a sorrowful frown.

"I’m so sorry, Samantha," he says in an almost inaudible whisper, and he kisses her forehead. In a louder, more regular voice, he continues. "What class are you in? I’ll walk you to it."

"First period is science, Harold, you should know that. You sit right beside me." Her voice is utterly miserable, but Harold can’t help the small smile that quirks up on the side of his mouth.

"Right; speaking of which, I think this is the longest bathroom break I’ve ever taken." He hopes for a laugh- a smile- but receives nothing. He shakes his head. "Science is over rated anyway. I have my laptop, been thinking of when I’d have time to change the bell schedule. Want to help?" He slides the metallic laptop from his pouch, and Root tries to give him a small smile; she fails.

"Yeah, sure," she replies, as the sit beside each other against the door. "But you should probably move all the bells slightly, not just the one after lunch. That way no one will catch on, but it will still guarantee you the time you want."

"Ah," Harold says, peering at her with a side glance. "Beautiful  _and_  smart.” She gives him the smallest of smiles, knowing how hard he’s trying for her, and leans her head on his shoulder. She lets the scrolling codes and the sounds of a clicking keyboard soothe her pain into a dull ache.

____________________\ We’ll Find You /____________________

 _Two weeks. Two whole weeks. Fourteen days._  The statistics roll through Sameen’s head as she sits in her last period class. AP Calc.  _That’s… 336 hours._ She’d received the news third in line. Harold informed John in their AP Calc., and John informed Sameen in gym. Root called it off- whatever  _it_  was. Dating, a relationship- it was over, none the less. As she starts to calculate the minutes- needing something for her mind to focus on besides the obvious- the teacher calls her out.

"Miss. Shaw," he says with a haughty sneer on his dark, clean shaven face. "Tell me, what  _is_  the answer to this question? Considering  _you_  are the only one  _not_  actively writing, I’d assume you have already finished.”

She gives him a glowering stare, then peers at the board.  _Letters_. So many letters.  _Isn’t this math?_  she thinks to herself, taking in the alphabet soup on the board.

"I’m gonna have to go with… f of x equals two minus x, if x is less than negative one." His brow furrows, eyes lighting with a Hellish fire as his muscles tense. He gives her a curt nod.

"Very. Good." The bell rings. Sighing, Sameen escapes from her chair and heads into the already overflowing hallway. She walks, coming past Root’s locker. Her heart gives an involuntary jolt as she sees Root standing there, talking animatedly to Harold. She looks over, sees Sameen, and instantly snaps her head back to Harold, focusing on him hard. Sameen swallows, then stares forward, heading to the buses. She walks to hers, stands in front of it for a moment, then turns away. She heads down the rows, counting off numbers until she reaches the one she’s looking for. Hopping on, she sits in one of the two seaters and waits. No one dares sit beside her, and then the engine revs to life. Her stomach drops, realizing Root isn’t on the bus. Sameen thinks hard-  _what is today? Monday. Root has computer club on Monday_. Swearing under her breath, she watches the school building turn to a speck in the distance; trees flash by, and people walk pets down the sidewalk.

The bus stops, and Shaw hops off, walking down the street. She turns, a little more than half way down the block, and walks up Root’s drive way. Sameen comes in the front door, then plops onto the couch, laying across it with an air of despair. Ms. Groves walks over, drying a dish. When she realizes who it is, she bristles.

” _Sameen-_ ”

"Sup, Ms. Groves?"

” _Sup?_  After what you did you think you can just waltz on through the front door and ask me what’s  _'sup'_?” Her tone is harsh and angry, but Shaw doesn’t flinch. She continues to look up at the white ceiling.

"I came here to ask for your h-"

"You’re gonna ask a _favor_  of me too? In _all_  my years, I don’t believe I’ve  _ever_ met a-“

"I’m here because I screwed up, okay," Sameen spits, propping herself up on her elbows. Ms. Groves falls silent. "I screwed up bad. I said things I didn’t mean because I don’t like it when people think I care. Caring is weak; and I won’t let anyone characterize me as that."

Ms. Groves’s glare softens slightly, and she places the dish and towel down on the coffee table. Wiping her hands on her pants, she comes to sit beside Sameen, who takes a sitting position to make room for her.

"Explain."

"Explain  _what?_ " Sameen asks.

"Explain to me why you don’t like to care."

Sameen gives a small laugh. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m a sociopath. I don’t do caring well.”

"Maybe not out  _here_ ,” Ms. Groves comments, gesturing to Sameen’s face and body. “But  _inside?_ You seem like you’ve got something.” Sameen looks at her a moment, then drops her gaze to her own clenched hands.

"Not really." The two sit in silence for a minute, until Sameen looks back over to Ms. Groves. "Can I tell you something?"

She shrugs, putting her hands up in a be-my-guest gesture. Sameen sighs, not believing she’s saying even a word aloud. “Your daughter drives me _absolutely crazy._ " Ms. Groves laughs at Sameen’s agitated deadpan.

"She can have that effect on people." She muses with a chuckle in her voice.

"I went through  _all_  my years of life not feeling much of anything,” Shaw confesses. “Just a bad temper and a sense of humor. Beat people up, dyed a boy’s skin green, got expelled- most of anything. But  _none_  of it stirred much of anything in me other than anger or amusement. Seventeen years, and in all of three months she wanders in and flips  _everything_  around.” Sameen realizes the shout in her voice, and the serious look in Ms. Groves’s eyes. Quieter now, she continues. “I don’t really like all these- these _feelings_.”

"You’re not used to them."

"How do you  _deal_ with it all?” Sameen says, exasperated; winning another laugh from Root’s mother. “Being jealous and protective and happy and- oh  _God_ \- lonely. Lonely  _sucks._ ”

"Sounds like you’re really in love there, kid."

Sameen rolls her eyes, flopping back down onto the couch. “Love is for _idiots_.”

Ms. Groves watches her a minute, eyes filled with amusement, then pats Sameen’s knee in comfort. “You’ll figure it out.”

"It’s been two weeks, and I haven’t got a clue. That’s kind of why I came here."

Ms. Groves ponders a moment. “Have you tried talking to her?” Sameen gives her a ‘ _no duh_ ' look in response.

"She won’t even look at me; she ignores me completely. I know I was an idiot, but I never did _that._ ”

"Did you just call yourself an idiot?" Ms. Groves asks smugly. Sameen looks at her, then a dawning look comes upon her face.  _Love is for idiots_. Giving Sameen’s knee one last pat, she stands. “Figure out a way for her to hear you out. Until then, you might want to head out, Root’ll be back soon, and I don’t think here is the place for the confrontation.” Sameen nods in understanding, then heads back  through the door.

____________\ P.O.I. High /_____________

"Today, I will be assigning you partners for a lab," the science teacher informs the class, mustache twitching. "Melissa and Carl… Jennet and Melody… Harold and Jared… Sameen and Root.." He continues through the rest of the list, but Root tunes out after that, her heart feeling like lead.  _No, please no_. Her stomach churns with unease, and she looks to Harold. His eyes are worried, but he gives her an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, she stands up and heads to the lab tables in the back of the room. Sameen quickly follows, ignoring the message pouring from Harold’s eyes. ‘Don’t push her.’

Sameen grabs herself a stool, then finds one for Root, placing it by her. Root sits, saying not a word, and opens the lab procedure packet, reading the instructions too carefully. Sameen watches her, knows Root feels her eyes on her, waiting. When Root doesn’t look up, Sameen clears her throat obnoxiously. Still nothing. With an eye roll, Sameen begins to speak.

"Hi, Root."

Silence. Sameen swallows, thinking.

"How have, uh, you been?"

More silence. Sameen rolls her tongue across her teeth in slight annoyance.

"Listen, I’m sorry,  _okay?_  I-“

"I don’t care about your excuses." Root replies flatly, not looking up from the directions.

"Well good, because this isn’t an excuse. It’s a question." Root’s eyes flicker over to her for a nanosecond, then refocus on the paper. "What can I do?"

"Do for  _what_.”

"To prove that I didn’t mean a thing. To get a second chance."

"A second chance at what?" Root spits with a low voice. "A second chance for you to cover everything up, then deny who I am to you the second you feel threatened? Jee, no thanks." Sameen sits still in her chair, muscles tense, feeling bit from the sarcasm of Root’s words. She is one part annoyed and three parts regretful.

"Then I won’t cover anything up."

"Oh yeah?" Root retorts snidely. Then she shakes her head. "I’ll believe it when I  _see_  it.”

"Fine," Sameen replies curtly, pushing up from the stool and standing. Her fingers tremble slightly, and she grips the lab table to keep them steady. She licks her lips.

"Everyone- Hey shut up a sec!" The room goes deathly quiet. Root shoots her a confused and pained glare.

” _Sit. Down._ " She says between clenched teeth. She tugs hard at Sameen’s sleeve, but she tears herself from Root’s grip.

"As you all know," she starts looking around at the attentive eyes on her. Harold’s eyes radiate rage, but something in them tells Sameen to keep going.  _Do it_ , they say.  _Do it._ "Whether you heard it or witnessed it first person, everyone by this point knows what I said the other day. And I would like to se-"

"Sit  _down,_  Miss. Shaw!” the science teacher fumes, murder in his eyes. “You are disrupting my-“

"Could you shut it, Bald Spot?" She retorts with impatience. "This is important." He silences instantly, hand coming up and rubbing the top of his head defensively.

"Where was I… Oh! Right, okay so: I would like to set the record straight. Root here," she gestures to Root, who stares in disbelief at Sameen, "is- well, no-  _was_  my girlfriend. At least I like to think so. However, that ended-  _obviously_.” She swallows hard, keeping a collected physique but running worried loops in her mind. “And it’s my fault. I get that. So I want you to tell this to  _all_ your little friends in the hall- is that a  _camera_?” The boy beside Harold drops his phone into his lap, eyes wide in fear. “Keep it rolling. Anyway. Tell them that I care- yes I said _care_ \- about this  _nut job_  beside me.” Root gives a small smile. “Don’t ask me  _why_ \- she makes me completely  _insane_ \- but I kinda like that she does.” She looks around, out of words and nerves at the brink of detonating. Kids smile, gawk, laugh- she doesn’t care. Taking a seat, she takes the lab sheet from Root’s frozen hand and starts to scan it over. Slowly, everyone begins to work again. Only Root remains immobile.

Sameen finishes reading the paper, using it to collect herself, then looks over to Root. “You okay?”

She swallows, starts to nod, then shakes her head. “Did you actually just…”

"Yeah," Sameen replies, a small amount of shock surfacing in her own voice. "I guess that’s not exactly what your mom meant by I’d find the right time. That was more like a psychotic break."

"Woah, woah,  _wait._  You talked you my  _mom?_ ”

Sameen nods slowly, turning her face away from Root, then straight down at the table. “Sorry, uh, for the embarrassment.” Root shakes her head numbly.

"Not an embarrassment; kind of relieved."

"Oh." Sameen replies, feeling relief as well. They sit a moment, and Root’s numbness dissipates into an angry scowl. She punches Sameen in the arm- hard.

"Ow! What the  _heck_ , Root?!”

” _That,_ " she states matter-of-factly, "is for giving me _Hell_  the past two weeks.” She takes another blow at Shaw.

"What the f-"

” _That_  is for being an  _idiot_.” Sameen falls silent, steaming slightly from the ears. She rubs her left arm, feeling the sensation drain from it. Another moment passes, and Root’s face softens. With Shaw looking at the test tubes on the table, Root gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. Instantly, she watches Sameen’s cheeks flare pink.

"And that was..?"

"Because I really missed you." Root finishes, tilting her head to the side, looking at Sameen with, once more, fond eyes. "My place after school?" she asks, placing both of her hands on the table. Sameen turns her head to face her, and a smile comes to her face. She reaches over and gives Root’s hand a squeeze.

"Yeah, sure, Root."


End file.
